


Thicker Than Skin

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, F/M, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Sexual Content, Skinhead AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skinhead AU. It's 1982 and it's London, Jim's an eighteen year old skinhead on a mission to convert his new American friend Leo, who's come to England to run away from his past, but their friendship quickly turns into more. As expected they don't have a smooth ride especially when they have to face the rest of Jim's cohort of skinheads, but that's just the first hurdle once Nero turns up on the scene looking for blood. Can their relationship survive all of this conflict so early on or will this rough and tumble lifestyle prove to difficult?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thicker Than Skin

**Author's Note:**

> It started off as a small drabble and spiraled out of control. As a Londoner I've tried to make is authentic as possible so let me know what you think, I was also tempted to do like a little British/80's/Skinhead slang glossary at the end but refrained but let me know how you get on. I've tried to keep most things consistent with the canon but just warped so it fits the 'verse. I hope you enjoy!

It’s April 1982, it’s a Tuesday and it’s fucking raining. _Again_.  Jim reckons London must be the shittiest place on earth to live, with all this fucking rain, but at least his docs are waterproof.  Now that he’s awake he doesn’t really see the point of lying in bed, there’s too much to do, too much going on inside that over-energetic head of his. So he gets up, shrugs into a Ben Sherman, tries to find his jeans, succeeds, and grabs a pair of braces out of his sock draw. The crisp cotton feels nice against his skin and he realises, absently, that Winona must have ironed this one. He’s surprised for a millisecond before his brain moves onto bigger and brighter thoughts, like that of breakfast mainly. He only finds Weetabix in the cupboard and looks out sullenly at the grey skies knowing that he’s going to have to face the rain sooner than he thought. He pulls on his bomber and heads towards the greasy spoon on Junction Road run by those Italians.

Jim isn’t sure how the Italians know how to make a full English but they do and he’s thankful for that small mercy. Jim’s halfway through murdering a sausage when this tall, dark haired bloke enters. It’s too early for the truants to be in here but way too late for the early morning business men who come in and get their quick cappuccinos to-go. _A mod,_ Jim thinks. Well-tailored silky looking suit, grey pinstripe, with a waistcoat and all, hair all askew with the rain and high shine loafers, Jim baulks and scoffs and the guy eyes him immediately. He’s got a scowl on his face and so, naturally, Jim scowls back.

“What?” Jim says, eyebrows raised with an attitude that says _just try and fuck with me_. Normally any person in their right mind would just turn back around to the counter and finish ordering whatever it is they were ordering but this guy, well he must still be on an amphetamine trip or something because he puffs out his chest and says: “Shouldn’t you be at school, _kid_?”

He’s a yank - some kind of southern tone, like a cowboy or some shit. Jim huffs, takes a savage bite out of some bacon and replies with and equally savage _fuck off._

“And I thought the Brits were supposed to be a polite crowd.” The yank says.

“Well if you don’t like our hospitality you can always fuck off back over the pond.” Jim shrugs.

“Would if I could, kid, believe me.” Is all the yank says before picking up his glass of orange juice and sitting at a table over the other side of the café. Jim almost laughs when he sees the guy’s ordered an omelette.

Scotty’s the first to meet Jim that morning, orders a tea and a fry and sits opposite Jim, shucking out of his Harrington, he wipes the water off of his head and flicks his hand. Water splattering all over the floor. Scotty laughs and Jim can’t conceal his smirk.

“Come on Scotty have a bit of respect.” He grins.

“For these eye-tie bastards?”  Scotty howls with laughter, he’s wearing those bleached jeans again. Jim can’t fucking stand them, sometimes he’s not sure whether Scotty won’t just grow his hair out again and end up looking like Johnny fucking Rotten, he knows Scotty’s dad has enough tartan at home to keep Scotty looking like a Sex Pistols reject for years.

“You turning punk on me, Scotty?” Jim teases. But Scotty stretches out his fingers, his four dots on display over his knuckles and the small cross on the other hand’s ring finger and Jim is reminded of Scotty’s unwavering loyalty. If Jim didn’t know Scotty so well his hand movements would be threatening but Jim just smiles and they bump fists.

“Fuck off, Jimmy.” He says softly. The yank is in the process of pulling his blazer back on, pulling the collar up around his neck. Jim’s distracted gaze causes Scotty to turn around as well. “Who’s the mod?” He asks.

“Some yank, fuck knows.” Jim shrugs.

“Is it just his fashion choices that are offending you or is that look of anger actually warranted?” Scotty smirks.

“He’s a fucking arsehole.” Jim huffs, watching as the yank pulls open the door and braces himself for the fine spring weather.

“Right.” Scotty grins. “What are your plans for today anyway?”

“Spock’s meeting us at Chaps’ and Jan is bringing over a new friend of hers, Carol something or other.” Jim says. “Figured we’d just have a few bevies and see where the day takes us.”

“Better let me get another sarnie then before we leave.” Scotty says, wolfing down the rest of his breakfast.

“You’re a fucking pig, mate.” Jim laughs.

“Fuckin’ right an’ all.”

…

By the time they’ve had a joint or two each, Chapel’s sitting in Scotty’s lap having the longer strands of her feather cut tugged at and her neck devoured while Janice snuggles into Jim as they twos his last cigarette. Spock is trying, and failing, to explain astrophysics – his words no more than drunken slurs.

“Give Sulu a bell on the house phone.” Jim says to Janice. “I need to get more fags.”

“Shall I tell him to bring Pav along as well?” Janice asks.

“If he can get hold of him, Carol’s looking a bit worse for wear over there on her lonesome.” Jim laughs. “You alright, darling?” He raises his voice slightly to get her attention, he didn’t realise the music was so loud.

“I’m fine thanks.” She says, her blonde fringe bouncing as she nods. “If I give you a fiver will you get another couple of cans?” She asks, shaking her empty Stella can.

“I’m sure I can manage that.” Jim nods, reaching over to accept the crisp blue note and heading on out the door. It’s not raining and he hopes to God it stays that way, his shirt is white and if it gets wet he won’t be best fucking impressed.

He didn’t think he’d be seeing that yank again anytime soon so walking into Singh’s corner shop and walking straight into the fucker was a bit of a surprise, to say the least.

“Watch it.” Jim says reflexively before looking up to meet the cool hazel eyed gaze. “You again?”

“Unbelievable.” The yank huffs, Jim finds all the eye-rolling quite endearing and so he introduces himself. “McCoy, Leonard McCoy.” The yank – Leonard – says in reply.

“Leonard?” Jim asks. “You’ve got to be pissing me.”

“S’wrong with Leonard?” He asks.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a name confined to those sixty plus.” Jim says. “What’re you doing in merry old England anyway, _Leonard_?”

“Wife took everything in the divorce, all I got left is my bones.” And he shrugs. “If I’d’ve known the place had such nice weather I’d’ve come sooner.” Jim laughs at that.

“Your bones, huh?” Jim says. “Pretty melodramatic aren’t you. I mean you’ve got that fine looking toff suit as well don’t forget.”

“You’re a real treat you know that?” Leonard replies.

“What can I say?” Jim shrugs. “Twenty _Embassy Filter_ , ta.” He says to the man behind the counter, presumably Mr Singh but no one knows for sure. Then Jim bends to pick a six pack of Stella out of the fridge and dumps it on the counter along with a ten pound note.

“Living the high life.” Leonard murmurs.

“You’re welcome to join us. Although you’ll have to lose the waistcoat.” Jim says mildly.

“Not too much of an uptight, suit-wearing asshole for you?” Leonard asks.

“In England we call them mods.” Jim says. “You’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“Georgia.”

“Whatever.” Jim shrugs, collecting his change, booze and fags off the counter and heads out the shop. “You really want to look like some Carnaby street dandy for the rest of your life?”

“More than whatever it is you’re calling yourself for sure.” Leonard smirks.

“Wanker.” Jim smiles.

“What’s with the braces anyway?” Leonard asks. “I mean, you’re wearing jeans.”

“You don’t have skinheads in America?” Jim asks.

“I’m sure we do, just not in Georgia.”

“What a deprived place.” Jim lights a cigarette and offers it in Leonard’s direction.

“Don’t smoke.”

“Didn’t think you would.” Jim says. “All straight laced right?”

“Right.” Leonard says. “This is my turning, so, ah, night Jim.”

“Night Bones.”

…

Carol’s pretty enough Jim supposes, a short wispy Chelsea girl cut means you can really see her features; big pouty mouth, squared jaw, elegant neck, one green eye, one blue eye. Jim’s happy to have her around too, she’s the only girl that’ll carry a Stanley and Jim thinks she’s kind of cool because of it. But even with this pretty little newbie finding her feet in their ranks, being doted on by Chekov and Chapel, Jim thinks of Bones. What a fucking brilliant nickname for a skinhead. If only Jim could convince him it’s a mint way of life… but Jim hasn’t seen him since that night at Mr Singh’s and it’s been two weeks since then.

“Look Spock I need you to help me with this.” Jim encourages, standing in the middle of the road that Bones turned off that last evening and looking down the length of it.

“Jim it’s possible that he doesn’t even reside on this street, that this was merely a road he needed to turn down on his way to his actual address.” Spock says, hands pulling on his navy braces – the only sign of his frustration.

“Not like you’ve got anything else to do is it?” Jim counters. “I’ll do the odds, you do the evens.”

“Why does he even matter? Montgomery said you called him an arsehole.” Spock sighs.

“Yeah, and he is, kind of. But we’ve got summer coming up and nothing to do. Absolutely fuck all. I want to convince him, you know.” Jim shrugs, pulling his own braces off his shoulder and patting down his black 501s. He doesn’t know why it matters but it does, call it his little project. Just something he needs to do. He will not rest until Bones is sat before him, head shaved, wearing a blue, red and white check Ben Sherman, a pair of Levis and a spanking new pair of docs.

“Why him?” Spock asks and Jim just grins.

“I’ll buy you a pint soon as we’re finished.” Jim assures him. And, in the way only Jim Kirk can manage, he swaggers from door to door on the left hand side of Pemberton Gardens charming the arse off of every resident that opens the door asking if Leo McCoy is home. Because _Leonard_ really is fucking abysmal.   

“Jim?” He hears as he nears the end of the street. “What are you doing?”

“Bones!” Jim grins. “Knew I’d fucking find you.”

“Watch your mouth.” Leonard says. “And what in God’s name is _Bones_?”

“I’ve christened you it. Very lucky as well because a name like Leonard will get you murdered round these parts.” Jim says. “Spock! I’ve found him!” Spock is a couple of houses behind him on the right side of the street. He rolls his eyes and strides over to meet them.

“Spock? Sounds like the kind of thing you’d call a lizard.” Leonard mutters.

“Be nice.” Jim warns.

“You must be Leonard McCoy.” Spock says.

“Bones.” Jim reminds.

“Leonard will do just fine, thanks.” Leonard says, nodding politely at Spock.

“We’ve come to rescue you from your modish ways.” Jim announces.

“No thank you.” Leonard smiles, pulling his keys out of his _satchel for Christ’s sake_ and trying to enter number 91.

“I’ll stay here all night.” Jim threatens. “I’ll break your fucking door down.”

“You are not turning me into a bald thug. Now good evening.” Leonard says as he attempts to close the door. But Jim’s quicker than that and he has the thick wedge of his Doc Marten stuck between the door and the frame.

“Then you’d better phone the pigs cause I’m not going anywhere.” Jim shrugs.

“The pigs?” Leonard frowns.

“Oh, ah, _the cops_.” Jim clarifies in a horrible American accent.

“You’re not shaving my hair. End of conversation.” Leonard says.

“But Bones, mate, you’d look sterling.” Jim says.

“I’m twenty four years old, Jim, I’m not letting a child dictate my life choices.”

“I’m eighteen, I’m not a fucking kid.” Jim says. “And I’m not half as naïve as you, _sweetheart_.”

“Jim, it would appear he cannot be convinced. Going skin is a way of life and Leonard does not wish to conform, the most logical course of action is to leave him be.” Spock says. “Be as mature as you claim to be.”

That’s when Jim belts Spock a right hook to the jaw, and then Spock tries to strangle Jim. And they are _fighting_ on the _street,_ tugging at each other and booting each other. Spock has a huge dirt stain the shape of Jim’s sole on his thigh and Jim has bruises over the swallow tattooed onto his throat. Leonard can’t just stand by and watch them kill each other, but the minute he’s on the other side of the door the fighting stops, the two men look up at each other and laugh and Leonard thinks _I’m fucked._

Jim grins in the way Leonard imagines a shark might when faced with a bleeding body in the ocean. “Just come out with us tonight, don’t worry about waking up with a shaved head or a cross tattooed on your forehead, just have a couple of drinks with us. You might be a total cunt yet and we don’t even know.” Jim reasons.

“Charming.” Leonard says, and after a moment of silent deliberation adds: “ _one_ drink.”

“If that’s all you can manage.” Jim laughs and Leonard rolls his eyes.

They’re in an Irish pub called _the Fleet_ , there’s a live band and the place seems nice enough. Leonard sees a table full of skinheads sitting in one corner of the room and follows Jim over to them. “Bones.” He says. “This is Chaps, Scotty, he’s a fucking nutcase, Sulu and Chekov, and that there is Janice and her mate Carol, she’s down from Margate. That’s Roger up there and Cupcake, both of them thick as fucking planks.”

“Oi.” Cupcake shoves at Jim. “Fuck off. Don’t put me in the same class as Korby.” And the table erupts with laughter.

“What’re you drinking?” Jim asks Leonard.

“Bottle of bud.” Leonard shrugs. “I’ll get it.”

“Fuck off will ya and sit down.” Scotty says. “Our Jimmy’s done nought but natter on about you for fucking weeks so just let the man buy you a drink.” Leonard bristles at being told to fuck off by a complete stranger, but quickly realises just how offhandedly it’s been said and how little weight it carries, so he sits down and keeps the scowl off his face.

“I always thought mods had a little something about them, silk drainpipes are kind of sexy.” Jan says.

“Jan you think everything’s sexy, you little slag.” Sulu says.

“Oi.” Carol says. “Fuck off Sulu you little prick.”

“Does he call you Bones because you’ve killed people?” Roger asks.

“I have no idea why he calls me Bones.”  Leonard says. “My nam-”

“Look sharp.” Jim says setting a tray down on their table. “And don’t be cheeky Mr Sulu, Jan’s a fucking princess aren’t you, darlin’?”

“So why choose to run with us skinheads anyway?” Christine asks Leonard when the rest of the group begin chatting about something or other that Leonard has no understanding of.

“Run with?” Leonard asks. “I, er, haven’t chosen to do much of anything. Jim seems to have chosen me.”

“He wants a new prospect.” Christine explains, some sort of realisation dawning on her. “You’ll be our fresh cut.”

“Fresh cut?” Leonard feels like a fucking parrot.

“Like our newbie.” Christine smiles. “I’ll pick you out a nice Sherman, something blue maybe.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m one of the oldest here.” Leonard says. “How comes Jim calls the shots if he’s only eighteen.”

“He’s pretty much brought himself up, looked out for us all at one time or another. His dad died just before he was born. He was a yank as well, died in Nam.” Christine explains. “He doesn’t talk about it though, best not to mention it.”

“Right. S’that where his scorn towards us Americans stems from?” He asks but Christine only shrugs.

One bud quickly turns into five which turns into fifteen and then suddenly its three o’clock in the morning and the remaining group of oldish looking Irish men begin to sing what sound to Leonard like folk songs, but upon actually listening to the lyrics it seems they’re rather anti-Brit.

“Fuck off back to Ireland if you don’t like the fucking English!” Sulu shouts.

“Watch yourself, laddie.” One of the men warns.

“What you going to do? Fucking petrol bomb us?” Chekov questions. “Fucking fenian tossers.”

Another bloke takes a step towards Scotty but Spock has pulled out his switchblade faster than Leonard thought possible and the fella steps back quickly, holding up his hands.

“Out!” The publican shouts. “All of you little shitheads get out of my pub!”

“Fuck you anyway.” Jim laughs. “We’ve been ruling the Irish for eight-hundred fucking years, if singing your little songs makes you feel better about paying tax to our Queen then by all means continue on.” And the group laugh.

“You little shower of shites!” One of the men holler.

The cold air bites at Leonard and he pulls his mac tighter around him. “Bombers are way warmer you know.” Jim slides up beside him, smirking. 

“You guys carry knives?” Leonard asks.

“Just for protection, Bones, chill out.” Jim’s smirk softens into a smile. “I’ll walk you home.”

“I’m not a child, I can manage walking down a couple of streets.” Leonard huffs.

“Just, _please_.” Jim pleads. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“Don’t you like a challenge?” Leonard smirks.

“That’s why I’m with you Bones.” Jim says. “Make sure she gets home safe.” Jim instructs Spock whose holding onto Janice.

“I’ve got her.” Carol says. “Come on Rand, this way.”

“Why can’t you all just call each other by your first names, what’s with the nicknames and the surnames and all the swearing?” Leonard asks.

“It’s just family ain’t it.” Jim shrugs. “S’the way we are.”

“Christine says she’ll pick me out a nice Sherman.” Bones smiles slightly.

“I’m not a fan of those bleached jeans but I reckon a white shirt and some scuffed up 501s and you’ll look the part.” Jim says, grinning. “But it’s a way of life you know, more than just clothes, it’s a whole scene. We’ll have to take a look at your record collection; I bet it reeks of fucking blitz kid.”

“I bet you haven’t heard of a single bastard in my record collection.” Leonard says. “M’from Georgia remember.”

“Please do not tell me you listen to that hillbilly shit.” Jim sighs.

“No, I went to Stanford for med school, got away from the South. Mostly it’s small time Californian bands, soft rock mostly.” Leonard explains. “A bit of Willie Nelson in places.” And Jim roars with laughter.

“Med school?” He questions. “So you’re a doctor?”

“No, I ah, never finished med school.” Leonard says and Jim can tell it’s a touchy subject so he claps his hand on Leonard’s shoulder and valiantly changes the subject.

“Ska and lovers rock and stuff. Reggae!” He says. “That’s proper music.”

“I’m sure.” Leonard says disbelievingly. “Can’t you just leave me the way I am?”

“A mod amongst men?” Jim grins.

“You are something else.” Leonard chuckles.

“You really that attached to your hair?” Jim asks.

“I really am.” Leonard nods.

“It is quite nice hair I suppose.” Jim slurs. “As far as hair goes.”

“Thanks Jim.”

“Still reckon you’d make a blindin’ skinhead.” Jim says. Jim realises with a blush that this could be the closest thing to flirting that Jim’s ever done and _meant_ before in his entire life. And fuck if that doesn’t scare the shit out of him, he has nothing against Boy George but the only fags he wants anything to do with are the little white ones neatly packed inside his cigarette box. Leonard looks at him, trying to work out what he’s thinking. Jim pushes away from him slightly and stops in the middle of the road. “Look, I actually need to get home, I’ll pop round in the week or something, you’ll be alright getting back on your own.”

“Ah, yeah. Sure, Jim.” Leonard says, suddenly confused. “I get in from work at about six usually.”

“Right, see you around.” Jim says, marching back up the road in the direction of his house.

“Right.” He thinks he hears Bones murmur.

…

Christine turns up the following Thursday with a blue and white check Ben Sherman. She stays for tea and he makes dinner, she’s a nurse up at the hospital. She’s only twenty one but she’s bright as a whip and funny as anything. “Jim’s sorry he couldn’t come.” She says, pushing away her empty plate. “I can’t believe you can cook.”

“I can’t believe I’ve been working in A&E for nearly a month and never spotted you.” Leonard counters.

“I’m on paediatrics.” She says.

“We should meet up for lunch.” Leonard suggests.

“We should.” She says. “If Scotty gives you grief he’s probably only joking, they do all get a bit territorial though.”

“I think you’re great Christine, really I do, but I’ve only just got divorced, I’m not really-”

“Fucking hell, don’t give me your sob story.” Christine says with a wink. “What’s with the divorce anyway? You’re a bit young to be married I’d have thought.”

“Young love and all that. Married when we were nineteen, started med school, things went to hell with all the hours I was doing.” Leonard shrugs. “My daddy died. Now I’m a hospital porter in the rainiest place in the world trying to be turned into a skinhead. I’m not even English.”

“I really don’t know what’s got Jim’s back up about you, must be something special.” Christine says.

“A diamond in the rough, that’s me.”

 “I don’t doubt it.” She grins. “I’m having a little get together for my birthday on Saturday, you should come.” She’s already scrawling down the address on his table cloth. “Everyone’d love to see you.”

“Thanks Chris.” He says. “I’ll be there.”

…

Jim realises, with a fair bit of amusement, that Bones has toned things down this evening. He’s wearing a plain white, short sleeved, Ben Sherman tucked into some black cigarette trousers over some black suede lace-ups. He looks good, really good. This doesn’t help Jim though, who purposefully squeezes Jan’s arse before moving up off the settee to get another bottle of Carlsberg. 

“That’s not the shirt Chaps chose.” Jim says.

“No, I invested in a few more. Made sense if I’m to be hanging out with you guys.” Bones explains.

“It’s nice.” _Fuck,_ Jim thinks, _stop complimenting him._

“You never did pop over.” Bones says, _pop over_ sounding weird in his subtly Georgian accent.

“No, busy boy me. But you and Chaps seemed to get on the other night so I thought you wouldn’t mind her going in my place.” Jim shrugs.

“Christine’s lovely.” Bones nods.

“She’s with Scotty.” Jim says defensively.

“Yeah I know, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just agreeing, it was nice to see her.” Bones says, a confused look passing over his face. “What crawled up your ass and died anyhow?”

“Nothing.” Jim huffs. “I’m fine.”

“Look Jim, if this is about me not dropping to your every whim you need to get over yourself. You’re a really great guy so, just, don’t be a douche.” Bones mumbles.

“You’re such a yank it’s almost painful.” Jim laughs.

“We alright?” Bones asks, tipping his bottle of beer towards Jim, who clinks his own bottle against it and nods.

“Jim, have you seen Carol?” Janice is suddenly braced behind Jim, arms winding around him middle.

“Does it look like I’ve seen Carol?” Jim asks, nodding his head towards Bones.

“Well she was here one minute and now she’s fucked off. We’re cutting the cake soon.” Janice says.

“Check in the garden, she might be out for a fag.” Jim suggests.

“I’ve already looked out the window, it’s raining she’s not out there.”

“Maybe she went in the shed for cover.”

“I don’t want to go out in the rain.”

“So leave her off. Jesus Jan what do you want me to do?” Jim asks. “Look, here she comes.”

Carol comes back through the door, trying to be discrete, Sulu follows her and his lips are all red and puffy and everyone else in the room seems to jump to the right conclusion.

“Oi, oi.” Scotty hollers. “Fuckin’ hell that’s one cunt of a hickey, right there.” And the room bursts into cat-calls and dirty jeers.

“Fuck off.” Sulu says, smirking. He sits beside Carol on the settee and the room slowly dies down.

“Well who’d have thought?” Jim says. “Carol’s a little mudshark.”

“Don’t be cheeky Jim.” Janice says before fucking off to sit on the other side of Carol, they light up fags together and start to gossip.

“Mudshark?” Bones asks.

“A skinbyrd who doesn’t date white blokes.” Jim says. “Not that it matters, Sulu’s a good guy.”

“Least he’s a skinhead.” Bones says with a smirk.

“Yeah there is that. You’re really letting down the side.” Jim teases.

“Ah, but it’s alright, I’m not trying to date any of your girls.” Bones assures him and a flicker of hope lights in Jim.

“Still sore from the d i v o r c e?” Jim asks, spelling out the word gives it more weight in Jim’s mind, reminding him that Bones clearly likes women if he was prepared to devote his life to one.

“I guess.” Bones shrugs. “It was finished a long time before we signed the papers though.”

“What’s the story anyway?” Jim asks, and Bones tells him – more than he expected too.

“I met her at Ole Miss, where I did my bachelor’s degree, biochemistry.” He pauses just to roll his eyes and Jim chuckles. “She was great, we were really good friends, I was eighteen and thought I knew it all, so we got married, she didn’t want to move to California when I started med school, so then we fell into this long distance thing, she cheated on me, I found out, I cheated on her, she sent through the divorce papers, I signed them.” Bones shrugs. “I’m not cut up about not being with her, just that I’m twenty four and already divorced. Everything just blew up in my face and I had to get away and England seemed so far away but only just far enough at the same time. I figure I can start over, leave the past behind me.”

In that moment Jim wants to ask _what are you running from_? Because that’s what it sounds like, as if Bones is running, doesn’t care where he ends up as long as it isn’t wherever he started. Jim just nods, belatedly, and plucks the cap off another beer. Bones won’t meet his gaze and Jim realises that Bones hasn’t told him everything.

“Did you love her? The other woman, I mean.” Jim asks.

“No.” Bones says without hesitation. “But then I didn’t love Joss either, not really.”

“That makes you sound like a total tosspot you know.” Jim says.

“Yeah I know.”

“Who was the other woman?”

“Another med student.”

“What was her name?”

“What’s with all the questions? Feels like an interrogation.” Bones says.  “What? I can’t be part of the group because I cheated on my wife but you guys are all so innocent with your flick blades and racial slurs?”

“Fuck off.” Jim snaps. “You don’t like us you don’t have to hang about with us, not on my account.”

“Behave Jim.” Christine is suddenly standing beside Bones.

“I put your present in the kitchen when I arrived.” Bones says. “Happy birthday.”

“You bought me a present?” Christine beams.

“Just returning the favour.” Bones nods.

“Nice shirt, by the way.” She grins.

“Thanks.”

“I’m going out for a fag.” Jim huffs.

“It’s raining.” Bones reminds.

“I’ll be in the shed.” Jim spits.

“Infant.”

…

Leonard went in search of Jim about an hour later, after a long, in depth, but wholly one-sided, discussion with Spock about Quantum physics. Jim’s still in the shed, the sharp smell of cannabis filling the tight space; Leonard gently takes the joint from Jim’s mouth and inhales. Jim watches as Leonard’s long fingers hold the joint, only half cognizant and dimly aware that Leonard is so very close to him.

“S’good stuff.” Leonard says. “It’s been a while.”

“I didn’t think you smoked.” Jim huffs.

“Dope’s different, like booze, it has a purpose.” Leonard explains. “Plus, I think I deserve it after listening to Spock go on and on about space, what is he? An alien, for Christ’s sake?”

“I thought you’d see the merits in other intelligent life forms.” Jim says, voice smooth and velvety.

“There’s such a thing as too smart for your own good.” Leonard huffs. “You calmed down now?”

“I wasn’t un-calm earlier. You just know how to press my fucking buttons is all.” Jim replies.

“Well ditto.”

“Ditto?”

“Yeah, ditto. Like, agreed or same here.” Leonard clarifies.

“You yanks are fucking mental.” Jim scoffs.

“I guess so, I mean here I am sitting in a shed with you.”

“Don’t be a cunt.”

“Would you watch your mouth?” Leonard scolds.

“What did you’re parents say about your divorce?” Jim asks.

“My father died when I was twenty one, that’s why I moved away for med school.” Leonard says. “Ma was disappointed obviously. Wanted grandchildren and all that jazz.”

“There is still time for you to have kids.” Jim offers a smile.

“I s’pose.” Leonard says with a vague look in his eyes.

“There’s another part to this story that you’re doing your best to avoid telling me.” Jim states. “What is it?”

“If I’m avoiding telling you doesn’t that clue you into the fact I don’t want you to know?” Leonard huffs, taking another drag on their joint.

“Yeah but I still want to know and I’ll never know if I don’t ask.” Jim says.

“Maybe you won’t like me so much once you do know.” Leonard says, passing the joint back to Jim who shakes his head.

“I’m high enough, you can finish it.”

“Thanks ever so.” Leonard laughs, Southern drawl coming on thick and it makes Jim heady.

“Come on Bones, I just want to know. What is it you’re keeping under lock and key?” Jim asks with encouragement filling his bright blue eyes.

“The med student, the one I cheated on Jocelyn with, his name was Geoff.” Bones says followed by a heavy silence that hangs mutely in the air. Bones has braced himself; Jim can see the hard set to his shoulders and the wariness of his gaze. But Jim can’t bring himself to say anything. He just looks at Bones, who is still watching him like a frightened deer in the face of a poacher’s rifle. _Fuck_ , Jim thinks, _fuckfuck_ fuck. Bones exhales with such control that his mouth has formed a little ‘o’. He sets the joint into the ashtray and stands. He looks down at Jim with a hollow sort of sadness, regret or something maybe. He has his bottom lip pulled into his mouth, his front teeth clamped over it, quite hard by the looks of it, the way the usually pink lip has turned white. And he nods slowly, thinks he understands Jim’s silent rejection. His high cheek bones helps along the small smile he offers as he exits the shed, thankful that Jim has given him an escape route. He understands that gesture as the final token of friendship.

…

Leonard’s walk home is longer than it ought to be, he walks slowly, feels like he’s in some kind of drunken stupor. Once he’s in he pours himself a glass of Jim Beam and sits at his pour excuse of a kitchen table, index finger tracing over Christine’s address. He takes off his trousers and puts them in the washing machine, slings his shoes on the stairs and adds his socks to the coloured load. He’ll do them in the morning, it’s Sunday tomorrow so at least he doesn’t have to face work, or anything else for that matter. He pours a second glass of bourbon and thanks God that he managed to find a bottle in this horrific country. He smiles at how pathetic he’s being, knows he’s just feeling sorry for himself. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the tufts which have started to curl in the most ridiculous of ways. When he looks at the clock next it’s nearly half one, he feels like an asshole for not saying goodbye to Christine, wonders if he’ll ever see any of them again. Will Jim head back into the sitting room and joke about it with the rest of his mates or will he make up some lie; say that Leonard has to head back to the States on some urgent business?

Leonard knows he’s had too much to drink when he thinks he hears a knock at the door.

“I know you’re in there, I can see the kitchen light.” It’s Jim. _What the fuck does he want?_

“If you’ve come all this way to punch me you’ve had a wasted journey.” Leonard says from the other side of the front door.

“I’ll kick the fucking door in Bones, just let me in. I don’t want to punch you, even if you are a complete wanker for leaving Chaps on her birthday.” Jim says. “Quick before one of your neighbours calls the old bill.”

Leonard unlocks the door and tentatively pulls it back, just enough so that he can see Jim’s on his own and minus his bomber jacket. “You’ll freeze out there.” Leonard says casually.

“You’d better let me in then, ay?” Jim smirks.

“I guess I’d better.” Leonard says, pulling the door open all the way and stepping aside.

“I shouldn’t have let you leave. I don’t– I mean it’s not a big deal really.” Jim shrugs. “S’not a crime to be queer.”

“Not anymore at least.” Leonard agrees. “Bourbon?”

“Go on then.” Jim smiles, sitting opposite him at the kitchen table, watching Leonard as he pours. “Ditto.” Jim says suddenly, breaking the silence.

“What?” Leonard asks, brows knitting together in confusion.

“Ditto, about being queer I mean. At least I think... Ditto.” He finishes lamely with a shrug.

“Oh.” Leonard says. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“No, well, now that that’s out of the way. I, er, I should be getting home.”  Jim says, downing his bourbon in one quick swallow and standing.

“What do you mean _at least you think_?” Leonard asks quickly, not wanting this encounter to end in the same dank silence as their last.

“Well I hadn’t. Before. But then you came along and I–” Jim shrugs.

“Me?” Leonard asks, disbelievingly. And after a moment or two of staring at each other Jim hesitantly nods. “Fuck.”

“Language.” Jim teases and Bones lets out a shaky laugh. He stands up to match Jim and they just stand there for a moment, mutely assessing each other, Jim quite thrilled to see Bones without trousers. Bones is the first to take a step forward and he places a soft kiss to Jim’s shallow cheekbones, feeling the brush of lashes against his skin. They’re so close then and Jim can’t help himself; he crushes his lips against Bones’, sliding his leg between Bones’ bare thighs to knit them even closer together. Bones moans into the kiss, pushing Jim’s braces off his shoulders and fumbling for buttons. Jim’s job is already half done, all he has to do is get Bones’ shirt off and his boxers down and they’re in business. Jim’s jean’s take a bit of convincing, what with them shrunk in the bath for the perfect fit.

“Fuck.” Bones says again, pulling at the denim and trying to support Jim as the blonde shucks them off. Once they’re off the boxers soon follow and Bones just stares at the expanse of pale skin before him, tracing a thumb over Jim’s snail-trail before gripping his now hard cock. Jim sighs, tension leaving his shoulders and he re-joins their mouths, hands tugging at Bones’ hair, using the thick strands to hold him in place. Jim’s never had this before, never been met with the roughness of another man’s kiss. The girls he’s fooled about with have always been soft curves and pretty gasps. Bones gives sex another meaning as he tugs expertly at Jim’s cock, his own leaking precum against Jim’s thigh. Bones does gasp when Jim finally wraps his hand around him _and quite prettily too_ Jim smirks. But his smirk is ripped away from him when Bones’ pace quickens and Jim is propelled towards orgasm. _Fuck_. Jim isn’t sure which one of them has said it but the sentiment is definitely shared.

Then they’re both panting hard and Jim wipes his sticky hand on the table cloth and Bones’ laughs, reaching for some kitchen roll for his own hand. They sit together, shoulder to shoulder on the floor, lent up against the MDF cabinets.

“You should stay.” Bones says.

“I will.” Jim nods. “I hope your mattress isn’t lumpy.”

“If you fuck me hard enough the lumps should dissipate.” Bones says, tone still even.

“Jesus Bones you can’t say shit like that to a bloke.” Jim laughs breathily.

“Too much too soon?” Bones wonders.

“No, fuck no. But you’re meant to be proper and gentlemanly.” Jim says.

“It’s a bit late to start being gentlemanly.” Bones smirks.

“Well, ah, if you want me to fuck you, please, lead the way.” Jim says, standing and pulling Bones up with him.

“You ever…?”

“No.” Jim shakes his head. “But I mean, can’t be that much different.” Jim quickly realises that wasn’t the most reassuring thing to say when Bones raises an eyebrow. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

“I didn’t think you knew the meaning of the word.” Bones smiles, but can’t seem to totally hide his nerves.

“Don’t be nervous.” Jim whispers, pulling Bones’ body flush against his own. “I’ve got you.”

…

Jim cracks one eye open and is met with a patch of tanned skin. He’s vaguely aware that it might be Bones’ shoulder blade and the thought doesn’t terrify him as much as it probably should. He’s a skinhead for fucks sake. Bones rolls his shoulder and cracks his neck, murmuring _Jim_ and edging back closer into the warmness of Jim’s body. That kills any reluctance Jim’s harbouring and he pulls his arm tighter around Bones’ waist, laying a few kisses across his shoulder and into the crease of his neck.

“Are you sore?” Jim asks, keeping his voice quiet so as not to disturb the Sunday morning equilibrium of the bedroom.

“A bit.” Bones yawns. “It’s been a while.”

“It was good though, huh?”

“Mhmh.” Bones assents lazily. “Are you self-conscious, Mr Kirk?”

“No.” Jim pouts into Bones’ skin, content to just lie there for the rest of the day but well aware of his erection that’s currently pressing into Bones’ arse cheek. “I want to fuck you again, but I’m trying to keep my promise.”

“Go slow.” Bones says. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Better than fine, I hope.”

“Mhmh.” Bones nods, curving his back so Jim slides snugly against the cleft of his arse. Jim drags his hand down Bones’ side, moving to pull his cheeks apart Jim realises that the lube is on the floor and sighs as he has to stretch down to find it, patting the floor with one hand until he does. Fingers finally slick, he begins to take Bones apart again, twisting and scissoring, slowly adding a finger, and another, until Bones is thrusting back to meet Jim’s digits. While Jim sort of revels in the tortured whimpers sliding past Bones’ pouty lips he does feel slightly wicked and so slowly replaces his fingers with his aching, _God, so fucking aching_ , cock, sliding into Bones inch by inch. When he’s bottomed out he pauses to give his lover a minute to adjust, tracing soft patters over his hips and ribs, kissing his nape. There is something very languid about their movements, which is accentuated by the fact they’re still spooning. This can’t be as comfortable for Bones as their face-to-face last night was. So Jim goes slow at first, shallow thrusts that he tries to angle just right. When Bones’ breath hitches he knows he’s found what he’s looking for.

“You can, _oh fuck_ , more, you can–” Bones murmurs. Jim smiles and shushes him, fingers digging into his hips and thrusting _deeper, harder, faster_. There is the satisfying sound of Bones moaning and the slapslapslap of skin meeting skin and Jim doesn’t know how he’s gone all his life without this. Thank God it’s only been eighteen years because any longer and he’d have exploded. He reaches round to take Bones’ cock in his hand, pumping it in counter to his thrusts and fuck Bones’ sounds like a prozzie and Jim can’t even think and fuck, _fuck_.

Jim comes so hard and fast his vision fizzles white and then Bones is clenching around him and it’s just perfect to ride through the aftershocks. Jim rests his forehead against Bones’ shoulder blade and exhales a long, deep, overwrought breath. Bones huffs out a laugh when he feels Jim’s hand leave his cock to wipe his come on the bed sheet.

“I wish you’d stop wiping come on all my linen.” Bones huffs.

“Lemme get a flannel.” Jim says, raising himself up on an elbow to kiss Bones’ cheek before going in search of a cloth. The Brit’s consideration does surprise Bones, if he’s honest, especially when the cloth he brings back is mildly warm but wrung out enough so it doesn’t drip everywhere.

“You’re a big softie at heart aren’t you?” Bones says once Jim’s placed the flannel on the bedside table, he turns to face him and is met with startlingly blue eyes.

“You’ll get used to it.” Jim says. “We should do something today. Now that we’re awake. Go to the cafe or something.” Jim suggests. “You should wear your bennie.”

“Are you still going to try and convert me? Aren’t you even the slightest bit attached to my hair yet?” Bones asks.

“Slightly.” Jim admits. “You own any jeans?” Jim asks.

“Don’t laugh.” Bones says cryptically as he slips out of bed and over to his wardrobe. Jim cringes at the thought of seventies flares or those New Romantic coloured denim efforts. But Bones collects an armful of clothing, careful to keep it from Jim’s gaze and heads for the bathroom. Jim grins when Bones steps out in a pair of dark blue 501s with a one inch turn up, the shirt Chaps brought for him and white braces. He’s wearing loafers and a pair of white socks and Jim can’t help but think they probably suit him better than docs would.

“Told you you’d look sterling.” Jim grins smugly.

“I feel ridiculous.” Bones counters.

“Cause you’ve still got all your hair.” Jim mutters, grinning up through his lashes at Bones.

“Stop that, you infant.” He smiles back at Jim nonetheless.

“Aren’t you going to give me a twirl?” Jim asks.

“You just want to look at my ass.” Bones states.

“Your point?” Jim asks.

“I’m not a show horse, Jim.” Bones huffs. “Are you getting dressed or what?”

…

So Jim’s wearing the same clothes he was wearing yesterday, wouldn’t be the first time outfits have served more than one day. But this time it was nice to have Bones do up the buttons and suck a love bite into a patch of skin just below the collar line. They’re in that Italian cafe again this morning and it’s a Sunday so there isn’t another soul in there. Bones is asking him about his tattoos, about the swallow on his neck, the cross on his middle finger, the webbing on his elbow, the dice and the well-drawn skull on his forearm, the nautical star under each hipbone. Jim talks through each, from getting his first at fifteen, the cross being stabbed into his finger with ink and an old sewing needle to ideas for his body in the future, when he has money saved up.

“Be careful of sepsis.” Bones says lightly, offering Jim his second slice of bacon.

“Lightweight.” Jim laughs, opening his mouth to accept the extra food.

“Animal.” Bones rolls his eyes, watching with a mix of disgust and fascination as Jim eats the entire rasher in one go. “Are you staying at mine again tonight or am I taking you home?” He asks, waiting for Jim to swallow.

“I need clothes and stuff. And, ah, we should be discrete. I need to test the waters first. But I’m working at the mechanics down on Holloway Road and your house is closer. And your bed is nicer than mine.” Jim says, pretending to weigh up pros and cons. “And you have this to-die-for arse which I would like to get better acquainted with.” He lowers his voice to a dirty whisper.

“We could stop by yours and pick up some stuff?” Bones tries to remain nonchalant even though his cheeks are turning a nice shade of pink. “I’ll get the bill. Will your mother be home?”

“Eager are we?” Jim says innocently, eyes wide like that of a child. “And no, I doubt it; she pulls double shifts at the laundrette.”

“Then yes, very eager.” Bones stands to pay at the counter and Jim follows him out the door.

The rest of their week progresses much in the same way. They wake up about seven in the morning, fuck, shower, eat breakfast, Bones leaves for work just after eight, Jim doesn’t have to but he leaves with him. They do their shifts, Jim earning a little extra overtime and get home about six, they fuck again, eat dinner, bitch at each other, fuck, watch telly, maybe squeeze in another orgasm of some description and then sleep. Rinse and repeat. But then it’s Saturday again and Jim feels bad that he hasn’t seen anyone, just Bones, his boss Christopher Pike, that Mitchell prat at work and Mrs Lovett who lives above Bones. So Bones tells him to go and see his mother, check up on the girls and he’ll meet him for a drink in _The Lion_ later. They’ll arrive separately and no one will suspect a thing.

“You scarpered fairly quickly last week.” Is the first thing Scotty says when he enters the pub that evening.

“You know those mod types.” Chekov says. “Flaky as fuck, this makes a nice improvement though.” He says gesturing at Bones’ attire, he just shrugs.

“So you’re like Russian or what?” Bones asks.

“Father is, mother’s London born and bred.” Chekov says.

“Pav’s dad’s in the Russian mafia.” Jan says conspiratorially.

“Janice shut up.” Sulu says, only coming up for air for a second before snogging ten fucks out of Carol once more.

“Sorry.” She looks apologetically at Chekov.

“If you’re not in the mafia you’re not really Russian, right.” Chekov shrugs.

“Well, his secrets safe with me.” Leonard smiles and Chekov returns his grin. “How did you manage to hold onto some of your hair?” He asks. Chekov is the only male in the group who isn’t sporting a traditional shaved head; he’s got this fringe worth of curls at the front of his head.

“The Russians are very good negotiators.” Jim says from behind him.

“Hello you.” Janice says before Bones has time to turn around and she’s smiling at him and Bones hates her a little bit.

“You alright, princess?” Jim smiles, lifting up Bones’ bottle of bud and taking a sip from it.

“Get your own bottle.” Bones says, shoving at Jim slightly. Bones heart flutters a bit when Jim looks down at him all blue eyed and face slightly pink from the May sun. He’s not going to be able to hide it, he’s sure he’s not. And Spock is watching him from across the table and he feels rumbled but then suddenly Jim’s sat beside him and the night continues on as normal. Panic dulled and crisis averted. Jim excuses himself just as they’re ready to leave and Spock follows him into the toilet. Bones doesn’t notice; too busy apologising to Christine, his genuine guilt free flowing now that he’s slightly pissed.

“Do not worry your little heart about it.” She slurs, placing a kiss on his jaw.

“Come on you.” Scotty says, extricating his girlfriend from Bones.

“Sorry Scotty.” Bones smiles.

“Don’t you worry laddie she’s like an octopus, all grabby and whatnot.” Scotty laughs, joy and pride in his eyes as he gazes down at the woman he clearly loves. Bones wants to look at Jim like that and not have to worry who will see. Spock is suddenly standing next to him, back straight, looking as if he’s assessing Christine’s state of inebriation but Bones can feel his eyes on him and his heart begins to thump.

“Jim seems to have failed in his pursuit to shave your head.”  Spock says levelly.

“Seems so.” Bones agrees.

“Jim’s expressed a wish to get another tattoo.” Spock says and even though he knows he shouldn’t Bones bites.

“Oh yeah, where?” He asks, harmless enough question, even though Bones knows Jim’s current tattoo ideas. Bones relaxes slightly; this clearly isn’t the interrogation he was expecting.

“His hip bones.” Spock says.

 _But he’s already got tattoos on his hip bones_ , Bones frowns.

“Oh, yes of course he does… my mistake, perhaps.” Spock says and Bones realises he said that last sentence aloud. “I was there when they were completed actually, how is it you’ve come to learn of their existence?”

Bones might be drunk but he can see the out he’s been given. Spock doesn’t know that he’s _seen_ them just that he knows about them. “Jim told me about them.” He shrugs, clinging onto nonchalance. “When I asked him about his tattoos.” Spock’s eyebrow creases and Bones can see that he’s trying to think of another way to trap him, _where is Jim_? They were in the bathroom together… Did Jim tell Spock? Is this a test? Fuck, fuckfuckfuck.

“He and Janice make what could be considered a _nice_ couple, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wasn’t aware they were a couple.” Bones grits out.

“Well not officially, but many believe there is something between them.”

“Something unreciprocated.” Bones says tightly.

“Oh?” Spock prompts.

“Bones!” Jim slides in between him and Spock, arms around their shoulders. “Spock.”

“James.” Spock smiles.

“What’ve I done now?” Jim grins, turning to Bones. “He only calls me James when he’s angry.”

“Not angry, just _surprised_.” Spock says. “I have a hypothesis.”

“Here we go.” Bones mutters.

“The two of you are engaging in sexual relations.” Spock continues.

“Spock!” Jim says, thumping him on the back. “Jesus, man, keep your fucking voice down.”

“I take that as a yes then.” Spock says. “You should have told me, Jim.”

“Is that what all those questions in the john were about? You were fucking _interrogating_ me?” Jim questions.

“Merely gathering evidence to support my theory.” Spock says.

“Jesus Spock you can’t say anything.” Jim says. “Please.”

“It is illogical to lie.” Spock asks.

“I’ll tell everyone you’re fucking that new romantic darky that we met in Camden.” Jim huffs.

“Jim.” Bones scolds.

“Sorry Spock, I just- that was uncalled for.” He says, genuinely mad at himself. “I just, I don’t know how they’ll react, the others I mean.”

“They seem to like Leonard. His sexual proclivities shouldn’t affect that, especially if they’ve tended towards you and are not unwanted.” Spock reasons. “You’re family Jim, I don’t care who you’re sleeping with just like you don’t care about my seeing Nyota.”

“The others might.” Jim says.

“Then they were never really our friends.” Spock says.

“The robot’s right Jim.” Bones says quietly. “I tried to hide it in Georgia and it got me nowhere. You shouldn’t have to lie about who you are. But I’ll be here whatever you do.” He shrugs.

“I don’t just want to be reduced to being called a queerskin for the rest of my days.” Jim huffs. “Why don’t you bring Uhura around to one of our get-togethers if you’re so high and mighty?”

“Because you’ve never invited her before and because she is not all that appreciative of your humour.” Spock replies. “Although now that it is clear your advances are not genuine perhaps she can be convinced.”

“Why don’t the two of you come over to ours for dinner tomorrow?” Bones asks and Spock’s lips quirk into a quick smile which vanishes as soon as it appears.

“I believe I remember your address.” Spock nods.

“See you at four.” Bones says.

“Uh, hello, I’m still here.” Jim waves his hand to highlight his point.

“I know, pet.” Bones says. “But everyone else seems to have scarpered; you’ll be alright getting home?” He asks Spock.

“I believe so.” Spock nods.

“Night Spock.” Jim smiles.

“Good evening Jim, Leonard.” He nods curtly in Bones’ direction, receiving just an eye roll in return.

…

Nyota is a tall, elegant woman, her hair drawn into a high pony tail and her eyes accentuated with bright but complementary eye shadows. She’s wearing a short red dress, it looks slightly futuristic but also something Adam Ant might champion. Her annoyance at Jim is evident, outwardly she treats him like an irritating, but ultimately harmless, insect, although, despite herself, and unbeknownst to Jim, she smiles at him when she thinks no one is looking, her eyes showing how she is slowly growing endeared to his _Kirkishness_. Bones is looking though and it makes him smile too, affection for Jim must be catching. Nyota and Spock seem to have a rather harmonious, _mature_ , relationship and while Nyota is slightly dismissive of some skinhead practices she seems to take him in her stride. She takes to Leonard because he’s sort of an outsider too, someone who, like her, isn’t drawn into all their skinhead culture.

“Apart from the Sherman.” She says. “He got you there.”

“Well if you can’t beat ‘em.” Bones grins.

“You wouldn’t catch me dead looking like one of those girls.” Nyota counters.

“Well I can’t say your girls look much better.” Jim mumbles.

“Jim.” Bones scolds.

“Just saying, some blitz girls look like they’re men in drag.” Jim shrugs.

“Do I look like a man in drag?” Nyota asks, eyebrow risen elegantly.

“I said _some_.”  Jim replies, throwing an appeasing look at Spock.

“Indeed you did.” Spock agrees, setting a pacifying hand on Nyota’s arm. “You found Nyota’s friend Galia to be aesthetically appealing when we met five months ago in _The Blitz_ , did you not?”

“Galia?” Bones questions.

“She was alright.” Jim shrugs. “She’s just a girl Bones, I only met her the once.”

“You seemed to think she was more than alright when you slept with her.” Nyota teases.

“Charming.” Bones huffs.

“Babe.” Jim says, pouting.

“Don’t _babe_ me you little shit.” Bones says with a gruff voice but inflected with a small chuckle. “ _Babe_.” He repeats with a scoff, completely disbelieving.

“Shall we perhaps continue with our meal?” Spock suggests.

…

Jim extends an invite for Nyota to join them at a small gathering at Rand’s house the following Friday. The week passes in much the same way all work days do, monotonous and tiring, but Jim meets Bones at the hospital after work and they head to the off-licence to make sure they’re fully equipped for the night’s fun.

“Hopefully we can sneak away earlyish.” Jim leers at Bones, pulling him closer to him by the collar of his navy Sherman. “I’ve felt deprived this week.”

“Depraved more like.” Bones smirks before Jim is pushing him up against the wall which actually turns out to be a shelf full of canned goods. Bones’ huff is muffled by Jim’s lips but Bones manages to pull away in just enough time that they succeeded in not to get caught by the only other customer in the otherwise dark and dank shop. Jim casually looks around at the guy and then moves away from Bones as if he’s been burned. Bones figures they must know each other but the look of trepidation on Jim’s face suggests that something sinister underpins their acquaintance.

“Jimmy!” The guy beams, clearly having missed Jim and Bones’ kiss and the look of fear in Jim’s eyes. He’s a skinhead too by the looks of him, or maybe just favours the bald look this time of year. He’s also covered in tattoo’s, some more traditional old school pieces and then some tribal work that reaches up his neck and face. The ink is fading in places, he’s older than Jim for sure, older than Bones too by the worn look around his eyes.

“Nero.” Jim nods, allowing a smile to ease onto his face. “I didn’t know you were out.”

“Released yesterday.” Another man, a huge hulk like thing, steps beside Nero. “This is Ayel. We’ve been like brothers ever since he was charged.”

“Nice to meet you, mate.” Jim nods; clasping Ayel’s outstretched hand in a firm shake.

“You gonna introduce me to your friend?” Nero asks – well it sounds more like a demand – taking Bones’ hand in his.

“Leo McCoy.” Bones says and Jim looks at him strangely, there is a small silence, the calm before a storm but then the atmosphere lightens. But it feels false.

“A yank.” Nero makes a face. “Standards must be slipping Jimmy if we’re recruiting foreigners. Septics at that.”

“He’s class Nero.” Jim says, confidence flooding back to him.

“You busy tonight?” Nero asks.

“Rand’s having a thing at hers.” Jim says.

“Little Randy? She was just a kid the last time I saw her, you too to be fair, Jim.” Nero sounds like he’s scolding Jim for something but for what, Bones isn’t sure.

“I always meant to visit, but like you said I was just a kid, you stopped sending visiting orders.” Jim explains.

“I thought Winnie was probably tearing them up, she always hated how you used to follow me about, idolising me.” Nero smirks. “How is dear old Winnie?”

“She’s well, thanks.” Jim says.

“Why don’t you pay for your booze and we’ll all head up to Rand’s together.” Nero suggests, but it sounds like an order.

“Sounds great.” Jim says. Bones follows him to the counter then outside the shop where they wait for the other two men.

“Can you explain in thirty seconds?” Bones asks, pulling one of the six packs under his arm.

“He went inside for me and Spock, Spock more so really, I’ll tell you all about it later. He’s a dangerous bastard though. Would you go on ahead and get Spock and Nyota out of Rand’s?” Jim asks, pleads really, worry marring his pretty features.

“Sure Jim, you’ll be alright?” Bones asks. “He won’t try anything with you?”

“No, I’m his favourite, I was his protégé or some shit. Too young and stupid to see a cunt when one was standing in front of my face.” Jim huffs. “This is shit luck Bones.”

“Just be sensible, keep out of trouble, I’ll see you in a few.” Bones says turning to leave, but they’ve taken to long swapping backstories and worry and now Nero’s striding out of the shop. Jim is barely able to keep his muttered _shit_ quiet enough to avoid grabbing the older man’s attention but Bones isn’t going to be able to escape and no one at Rand’s is going to get the warning they need.

“You off somewhere, Leo?” Ayel asks, he doesn’t seem as dangerous as Nero – more of an unknowing follower than an active brute – so Leo offers a smile.

“No I just thought we were going to make a move.” Leo replies. “We haven’t got to stop off anywhere else first have we?”

“Eager for a drink?” Nero wonders.

“It’s been a long week.” Bones admits.

…

Some people greet Nero with reverence, like a king who has come back from a long war, others look terrified. Bones isn’t sure what to make of everything. Spock has the same neutral look plastered to his face as always but he has a protective arm around Nyota’s waist. Carol is sat on the other side of Nyota talking about some new blitz bands and holding Sulu’s hand. Roger and Cupcake are up Nero’s arse and Jim is doing his best to protect Janice from his dirty jokes. Christine is huddled up beside Bones, not doing a good job of hiding her discomfort.

“I’ve never seen you nervous.” Bones says to her, voice quiet and hand soothing her shoulder.

“He used to date my cousin. He’s mental.” Christine says, distant sounding, like she doesn’t want to take her eyes off of Nero in case she misses something. “That’s why they call him Nero, like the mental Greek Emperor.”

“And he doesn’t mind that?” Bones asks.

“He just thinks it’s great to be likened to an Emperor.” Christine shrugs. “First time I’ve ever met him, he’s been inside for the last six years.”

“What was he in for?” Bones asks, dreading the answer.

“Manslaughter, he got twelve years but only had to serve half time.” Christine explains. “Some bloke pulled a knife on Spock on his sixteenth birthday, Spock tried to reason with him, the guy was drunk, just being a twat but Nero flipped, apparently he punched the guy so hard his nose bone went through his brain.” Bones’ medical knowledge knew that sort of thing was actually a myth, Nero probably just punched the guy hard enough in the temple to cause internal bleeding and it just wasn’t treated quickly enough, he doesn’t say as much. When his gaze flicks back over to Jim he’s trying to push Janice off his lap and keep his lips turned away from her reach. The sight of that pretty blonde all over _his_ pretty blonde makes Bones tense but Nyota is suddenly beside him with a hand firmly over his thigh.

 “Have a drag of this.” She offers him a spliff and a small smile. “He adores you, Spock says so.” She sounds drunk but there is a grace to her that no substance could dampen.

“Quiet, Ny.” He says gently.

“Spock.” Nero calls, and a hush falls over the room.

“Nero.” Spock stands.

“I did time for this man.” Nero announces to the group. “There are some new faces here, you were probably kids when I was last around this town, why don’t you introduce me?”

“They know who you are Nero.” Jim says, standing in between the two men.

“Sit down James, your girlfriend’ll get cold.” Nero orders.

“Jan’s not my bird.” Jim says.

“Well fuck Jimmy, you turned queer since I’ve been gone?” Nero laughs, the sound booms and belts throughout the room, Cupcake laughing alongside with Ayel. Jim flinches slightly but remains fairly dispassionate.

“Don’t be a knob.” Jim says evenly.

“Don’t be a knob?” Nero repeats, voice edging somewhere dangerous. “What the fuck has happened to this place? When I was running things we were skinheads, _real_ fucking skinheads. I was an original ’69 and look at what you little shits have done to our fucking lives, it’s not even exclusive anymore.” He looks over at Nyota and to Bones. “You’re just letting any old riffraff join, I expected that kind of turncoat shit from Spock but Jim you’re meant to be leading these boys and you’ve got some septic mod trying to fit into a Sherman? The bastard wasn’t even born here.”

“What he hasn’t lived the hard life of working class Brit so we can’t be mates?” Scotty asks. “Skinheads are about fucking unity, it’s about music and lifestyle, politics ain’t worth shite. The government ain’t helping us so why the fuck should we align ourselves with commercial racism and feed the ruin of the masses?”

“Anarchistic fucking bastard.” Nero laughs. “I’ve missed your shit Scotty.”

“Let’s just have a bit of a laugh, hey?” Scotty says.

“I need to talk things out with Jimmy.” Nero shakes his head. “Let’s step outside.” And Jim follows him out.

…

“I’m just going to start calling you a suedehead, or maybe a lemonhead, then your modish tendencies don’t reflect so badly on me.” Jim says, running his hands through Bones’ thick hair.

“You’re growing to love it aren’t you.” Bones hums his appreciation, turning onto his stomach to kiss and nip at Jim’s collarbone. “I don’t know why I offend him so much, he doesn’t know we’re together so what’s his problem?”

“He knows we’re close, doesn’t matter how close. He sort of hates Spock for the same reason.” Jim explains.

“And because he thinks it’s Spock’s fault that he got put away.” Bones adds.

“And that. But it was me really, I started on this guy, I mean I was twelve for fuck sake but I was a mouthy little shit and this kid took it out on Spock, but Nero couldn’t let it go.” Jim pauses and looks at Leo. “I was going to tell people about us as well, at Rand’s, I can’t deal with Jan anymore and I know it makes you jealous.”

“Fuck off.” Bones scoffs. “ _Jealous_.”

“You can lie to yourself, but not me Bonesy.” Jim smiles.

…

They don’t have to tell anyone because Christine and Carol catch them necking in the garden shed of Christine’s house the next day.

“Chaps!” Jim yelps, pulling away from the heat of Bones’ tongue lapping at his throat. Bones mutters a string of expletives and pushes in the opposite direction, trying to move as far as he can from Jim in that tiny shed.

“Oh.” Says Carol.

“Knew it.” Say Christine.

“Really?” Carol asks. “You never said.”

“Didn’t want to upset Jan.” She shrugs.

“She’ll get over it.” Carol shrugs.

“You’re the worst friend ever.” Christine laughs.

“She’s like a child, Chaps.” Carol admits. “She kills me sometimes, I love her don’t get me wrong, but–”

“We’re still here.” Bones huffs pointedly.

“So you are.” Christine says.

“So you guys are queer?” Carol asks, not really looking for an answer but she’s talking loud enough and Jim cringes.

“Who’s queer?” Sulu asks before peering into he shed and offering an: “Oh.”

“Sulu.” Jim says gently.

“Fuck.” Sulu counters.

“This doesn’t change anything.” Jim assures.

“It sort of does.” Sulu says.

“Don’t be a prick, Hikaru.”  Carol scolds. “Ain’t really anything to do with us.”

“Thanks Carol.” Bones says.

“You just keep away from Hikaru.” She warns. “I’m deadly with a Stanley.”

“You’re safe Sulu don’t fret.” Jim smiles.

“This ain’t right.” Sulu huffs and heads back into the house. Jim storms after him but Sulu is already whispering furiously to Chekov and when Jim tries to diffuse their conversation Nero speaks up:

“What’s all the gossip?” He bellows and Jim, Sulu, Chekov and Bones, who is now standing in the doorway all look like they’ve been caught like rabbit in headlights.

“Nothing.” Jim says.

“I’m not being led by a queer.” Sulu hisses.

“A queer?” Nero prompts. “Care to explain, Jimmy?”

“Bones and I…” Jim starts.

“Bones?” He looks over at Bones. “You’re fucking the yank?”

“Nero.” Jim grits out, frown taking over his face.

“Jimmy you’ve been a major fuck up in a lot of ways but this takes the cake. Real men fuck women.” Nero spits.

“Real men don’t kill people.” Bones snaps, less afraid of Nero than he should be.

“Bones.” Jim whispers. “Go home.”

“Don’t.” Bones huffs.

“Keep her on a leash, Jim.” Nero says, pretending to control his anger.

“Nero we can talk about this.” Jim says diplomatically.

“You get rid of him and we’ll talk.” Nero says. “But I’m leaving and anyone who’s really a skinhead, in their heart, really knows what it is to _be_ a skinhead will leave beside me. Like you said Scotty, this is unity.”

“Unity would be sticking it out no matter what.” Scotty says, no intentions of moving from his squat on the floor.

“Well fuck that.” Cupcake says. “I’m with you Nero.”

“Me too.” Roger says.

“Roger!” Christine reprimands.

“No true skinbyrd should want to hang about with queers, chuck ‘em out now Chaps and save us the bother of leaving.” Roger says.

“Fuck off.” She scoffs. “Jim was my friend long before you were on the scene, you wouldn’t even know what a Ben Sherman was without Jim. You’re a turncoat cunt and you can get the fuck out of my house.”

“You got a mouth on you, Chaps.” Nero smirks.

“You can be on your way as well, this is a private party for _friends_ only.” Christine says, and Bones is proud of her. Sulu stands and Chekov gives him a dirty look.

“Sit down you silly fucker.” He says and Carol laughs.

“We’re Jim’s friends Hikaru, sit down.” She adds.

“Well I’m not fucking staying.” Janice growls. “Carol you can’t be serious.”

“You leave Jan darling and it’s your own funeral.” Carol shrugs. Janice pouts and flicks her hair and then, to everyone’s surprise, she does actually follow Cupcake and Roger out of the door, Ayel taking her by the waist. Nero looks at Bones and glowers.

“Watch yourself.” He says. “Like you said, I’ve killed people.”

“Nero.” Jim snarls. “You keep him out of this. You want a fight then pull up your braces but he stays untouched.”

“Getting protective Jimmy?” Nero taunts. “You can tell Spock I’ll be coming for him and his, he still has a debt to pay.”

“Fight _me_ or fuck off.” Jim offers.

“I’ll be in touch.” Nero says before slipping out of the room.

“Get Spock on the blower, and tell him to get Nyota over to his.” Jim says to Christine and then walks over to Bones, putting his hands over Bones’ pectoral muscles. “In future you stay very, very quiet.”

“You’re sort of hot when you’re all fired up.” Bones smirks.

“You’ve only just noticed?” Jim smiles, hands relaxing and coming to rest under Bones’ ribs.

“Don’t snog here.” Sulu huffs.

“Fucking hell Sulu, it’s not catching I’m sure you’ll still wanna shag Carol even if you do get a glimpse of us snogging.” Jim counters.

“Sorry Jim, it’s just… We’re mates, we’re the boys.” Sulu shrugs.

“And me and Bones don’t change that.” Jim sighs, exacerbated.

“Give it time, Jim.” Bones says gently. “You got hold of Spock yet, Christine?”

“He’s on his way over.” She nods. “Nyota was at his already.”

“Good.” Jim nods. “The four of us should stay at mine, I can be there for mum then too.”

“Least I’ll get to meet her finally.” Leo smiles

…

When the four young adults approach the small terrace house Winona Kirk is standing outside it in a big white t-shirt and leggings painting the front door blue. Jim looks around as if making sure it hasn’t suddenly become day time and then frowns.

“Mum?”

“Jimmy!” She smiles and sets the paintbrush down so it’s across the rim of the paint tin. “And Spock, poppet, how are you?”

“Well, thank you Winona, and you?” Spock returns politely.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“Mum, it’s ten o’clock, why are you painting the door?” Jim asks.

“Because Fads were having a sale and the tin was seventy percent off.” Winona explains. “The door was looking a little drab.”

“But it’s dark mum, why paint in the dark?” He frowns.

“Because I’m out tomorrow at seven and probably won’t get a chance to do it until next week.” Winona shrugs. “Are you going to continue to question me or are you coming in?”

“We’re coming in.” Jim says. “I’ll give it another coat in the morning, leave it for now.” He orders, putting the lid back on the tin and taking the paintbrush into the kitchen to wash it.

“You must be Bones.” Winona says gently. Bones nods and follows her into the house. “And who might this pretty young lady be?” She looks cheekily at Jim.

“Nyota Uhura, Ms Kirk, I’m Spock’s girlfriend.” Nyota introduces, stepping forward to accept Winona’s kiss on the cheek.

“Nero’s out.” Jim says conversationally. “He’s made it clear that Spock and I are on his hit list, we’re going to stay here for a while to make sure he doesn’t try anything with you.”

“He won’t try anything with me.” Winona says, sounding wholly certain. “You were his favourite, what changed?”

“Um.” Then Jim pauses and looks at Bones. “Maybe we should talk about this in the sitting room.”

“Why?” Winona asks, following his gaze to Bones.

“He’s not too fond of the fact Bones and I are friends.” Jim says after clearly thinking out how to word this in the most vague way possible.

“Why? Because he’s not a skinhead?” Winona asks not looking at Jim but trying to work something out from Bones instead.

“Well there’s that.” Jim pauses. “But more because we’re sort of seeing each other.” Jim says quietly.

“Seeing each other.” Winona repeats. “When you said you were staying with him because he needed a flatmate to cover the rent I assumed it was a two bedroom.”

“Well, I didn’t know how you’d feel about it.” Jim admits.

“I’m more hurt by the fact you’d lie than by the fact you’re with a man, James.” She says. “We’ll need to talk.” She says looking at Bones. “He’s practically a child.” She huffs and then turns to Nyota asking: “Have you eaten, love?”

“Yes, thank you.” Nyota nods.

“Well, you and Spock can have Sam’s old room, would you help me make up the bed? Jim, your room’s where you left it.” She says and Nyota follows her from the kitchen.

“She hates me.” Bones sighs, looking despondent. 

“She doesn’t hate you.” Jim counters.

“I agree with Jim’s assessment of Winona’s response to you.” Spock says. “I’m going to bring our bags through to Nyota but I’d be agreeable to a cup of tea when I’m done.”

“I suppose you’ll want room service next?” Jim jibes. “Go on, I’ll bring it through.”

“Thank you, Jim.” Spock nods, following the women up the stairs. Jim crosses the kitchen and sets the kettle on the hob before switching on the gas. He pulls a serving tray from beside the microwave and sets five cups out, putting a teabag in each and the sugar caddy in the middle, dropping a spoon into the tiny white grains.

“You want coffee instead?” Jim asks, remembering Bones isn’t the biggest fan of tea.

“No it’s alright.” Bones replies. “Do you want me to do anything?”

“There should be biscuits in the cupboard.” Jim says and Bones looks at the three cupboards above the counter, opening each door in turn before finding said biscuits, _digestives_ actually, and setting them on the tray. Jim thanks Bones with a kiss on the cheek but pulls away abruptly when Winona forcefully coughs.

“Take it into the sitting room, Jim; I’ll bring the kettle in when it’s boiled.” Winona instructs, for a moment Jim looks as if he might protest but Bones nudges him gently and he eventually leaves the room.

“I wanted to meet you sooner.” Bones says; he’s not nervous, not really, he is good at the parent thing usually.

“I thought you might be closer than he was letting on.” She admits. “He’s clearly very fond of you.”

“It’s reciprocated. I um, I care for Jim a lot.” Bones says.

“That’s all that matters really.” Winona says.

“I know we’ve only been dating a few weeks.” Bones adds and he knows he’s overcompensating now.

“He’s been happier, what I’ve seen of him anyway. You seem to keep him out of trouble.” She smiles.

“I’m quite the domestic creature, Jim’s getting used to it I guess.” Bones shrugs.

“When Sam left, Jim had only just turned fourteen or so. Sam was seventeen; he left for the army… has Jim told you much about his father?” Winona asks.

“He hasn’t. But I heard your husband was in the army– ”

“The US air force.”

“He died in Vietnam.” Bones says.

“That’s right.” Winona nods. “Sam was killed over in the Falklands, two years ago this November.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Bones says. “Jim hasn’t said anything about Sam, or his father. I didn’t even know he had a brother.”

“He keeps a lot close to his chest. I was always glad he had Spock around, they’ve been friends since they were children even though Spock’s four years older, he was friends with Sam to start with but Sam joined up with the Cadets when he was twelve and fell in with a different crowd. Spock’s been there through it all so it’s like he hasn’t had to tell Spock anything, but he finds it difficult to broach most subjects, keeps things superficial.” Winona says.

Bones wasn’t sure if that was meant as a poorly masked criticism of their relationship. Were things superficial? Should things be deeper after only a few weeks?  

“We should head into the sitting room.” Winona says and Bones follows her down the hallway.

They drink their tea in silence, some funny British soap opera playing on the telly and then once half the biscuit packet has been eaten they all head to bed. Bones lies beside Jim, staring up at the ceiling, following a crack in the plaster.

“You mum told me about Sam.” Bones says. “You never said you had a brother.”

“Never came up.” Jim shrugs.

“Christine said your father was from America.”

“Iowa.”

“Why don’t we ever talk about this sort of stuff?” Bones asks.

“Cause it’s in the past.” Jim says. “How did your dad die?”

“He got ill, polycythemia, a disease in the blood.” Bones replies.

“My father’s plane was shot down.” Jim says. “Mum was still pregnant with me. Sam died the November before last. I never understood why he wanted to enlist knowing that it killed our father. I hadn’t seen him in two years anyway. He just left one day when mum said he wasn’t allowed to enlist if he was living under her roof, she regrets it I think.”

“She couldn’t have known.” Bones says, pulling Jim’s hand into his, wanting to shift closer to Jim but stopping himself in case it ruins the intimacy of their conversation.

“I know.” Jim nods. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No, I don’t suppose it does.”

…

They’re at Jim’s for a week before Nero contacts them. He tells Jim to ‘brace up’ and hangs up the phone.

Bones is late home from work that evening. Jim entertains the idea of calling the old bill. When Bones does eventually get home from the Whittington Hospital it’s half nine. Jim’s sitting at the kitchen table with Winona, he has the receiver of the house phone clutched in one and Winona’s clutched in the other.

“It’s alright he’s here.” Jim says into the phone and sets the receiver back on the hook. “Where the fuck have you been?” Jim demands, seething.

“I went back to the house to get some things.” Bones lifts up a laundry bag worth of stuff. “I know you want your white braces for the weekend.”

“Nero rang.” Jim said, still sounding furious. “Nero rang me at work, told me to be ready for a fight and then you didn’t come home.” He’s out of breath and frowning so deeply Bones wonders if Jim will break his brow bone.

“I’m sorry.” Bones says lightly. “I just thoug–”

“Well don’t.” Jim snaps and then sighs. “I need you to be more careful, just for a while until this is all over.”

“Okay, Jim.” Bones nods. “I didn’t think. I should have called.”

“Yes you should.” Jim agrees, a slight heat still in his voice.

But later that night, when they’re lying in bed wrapped around each other, Jim apologises into the crease where Bones thigh meets his crotch. “I’m sorry for earlier.” He murmurs, his breath cooling Bones’ sweat sheened skin. It’s May now, and the nights are getting a little warmer but Bones’ body is always _so warm_ , almost _too warm_. Jim usually treats him like a hot water bottle, doing his best to steal all that comforting warmth, even when Bones exclaims that: “He’s a man, _goddammit_ , not a radiator.”

“It’s alright Jim, we say stupid things when we’re scared, you’re allowed to be worried and you’re allowed to be angry.” Bones says, smoothing his hands over Jim’s shoulders and down his back as far as he can reach without lifting his back off of the mattress.

“You just- you can’t get yourself killed, okay? Can you promise me that?” Jim asks, eyes darting up to look at Bones, chin resting against Bones’ hipbone.

“I can only promise as much as you can, kid.” Bones admits. “I’ll try my hardest, I don’t intend to leave you yet.”

“ _Yet_ , huh?” Jim prompts but only receives a smirk in answer. “Maybe I can convince you otherwise.” He says, dipping his tongue into the slopes of Bones’ abdominal muscle and then kissing a bruise into the skin beside his bellybutton.

…

It’s a couple of weeks later and there has been no sign of Nero but Jim is still on red alert, is certain that Nero is just waiting for a good time to strike, waiting for Jim to let his guard down. Christine is giving Bones a haircut in her kitchen while Carol prepares a chicken dish of some sort over by the hob. The _boys_ are over at the Kirk place ‘talking shop’ and Bones has been ordered out to spend the night with the girls, assuming the role of the woman in the relationship only affronted him slightly before he got over himself and let Jim do what he felt he had to do. Jim wanted to protect Bones, protect him from Nero and from the violence that would ensue as well as the repercussions of said violence. Bones didn’t like that Jim was doing this on his own, felt like he should be protecting Jim just as much as Jim was attempting to do so with him but Jim wasn’t letting him have much scope.

“You sure you don’t want more off?” Christine asks.

“I’m sure.” Bones nods, he’s already let her go an inch shorter than originally planned but his hair is still fluffy and way longer than skinhead regulation.

“I could shave it in at the back maybe? You’d have like a feather cut but at the front?” She suggest.

“Christine.” He wants.

“It’d be a nice surprise for Jim, Leo.” Carol says, setting down the tomatoes she’s cutting and turning to face him, smiling widely and fluttering her eyelashes.

“No.” Bones huffs.

“Oh, go on.” Christine encourages turning the electric shaver back on.

“Don’t go too close, keep it on number two.” Bones pouts. “And gradually get longer as you come up to the crown.” He instructs.

“I’m very skilled with a blade Leo, stop fretting.” She says, poking him in the shoulder to which he just hmphs in response. But before she can get very far the doorbell rings, Christine hands the trimmer to Bones and heads out into the hallway, presumably to answer the door but since being in Britain Bones has learned not to predict the behaviour of the locals because they’re mostly batshit.

“No you can’t just co–”

Christine was yelling at someone and then there was the sound of wood crunching and the heavy step of boots coming closer. Bones knew who he’d see before Nero even entered the room but it was still a shock to see the huge man standing in the kitchen doorway. “Put on the kettle, love.” He orders, grinning lasciviously at Carol. 

“Fuck off.” She huffs. “Chaps? You alright?” She calls into the hallway, avoiding catching Nero’s gaze.

“Get out.” Bones says, standing, he’s not as tall as Nero but he is six foot one and that’ll do him just fine. “Christine?” He calls, not hesitating to move Nero aside to get into the hallway. He doesn’t get as far as he’d hope, Nero pushes him back into the kitchen and down into his recently vacated seat, but not before Bones had the chance to glance in the hallway. Christine’s slumped against the wall, holding her hand to a blooming bruise on her cheek and trying to put the pieces of her hallway cabinet back together.

“I’m alright.” Her voice is weak, shaky.

“You often hit women?” Bones demands, allowing his voice to fill with disgust.

“She got what she deserved, needs to learn her place.” Nero states. “Not too different from yourself.”

“You gonna hit me?” Bones scoffs. “Because I’ll warn you now, I’ll hit back.”

“No. I’m going to cut you, leave a mark, let Jimmy know whose boss.” Nero says assuredly. “In Britain we have something called the Glasgow grin, it’s a scar caused by making small cuts on the corners of a man’s mouth, then beating them until the muscles in their face contract which causes the cuts to rip up their cheeks to their ears. Are you familiar with it?”

“Have you read the Batman comics, are you familiar with the Joker?” Bones counters.

“Cheeky fucker, aren’t you?” Nero huffs. “Carol why don’t you and Christine take a walk?”

“Don’t go to Jim.” Bones says quickly.

“Of course they’ll go to Jim.” Nero says. Carol looks terrified and shakes her head but Bones urges her to leave and get Christine seen to. Nero makes a jibe about chivalry and Bones questions his ability to spell the words he uses.

“I’m sure I can manage to spell poof.” Nero counters. “How about I carve that into your forehead.”

“There’s a lot of blood around the skull, I’ll bleed out before you finish.” Bones shrugs. Nero nods his understanding but pulls out his Stanley knife anyway, he pushes the blade up and holds it out for Bones to look at. Bones does and then he looks around the room for a weapon of his own. The electric shaver is on the table still and so Bones grabs for it. Nero looks at it speculatively and then chuckles.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Nero says.

“Put the knife away.” Bones counters.

“You know, I don’t think I will.” Nero shrugs and swipes at Bones with the powerful arm that hold the knife, he goes straight for Bones’ cheek and Bones barely makes it out of the chair in time. Bones retaliates, smacking the heavy shaver over Nero’s head twice but it brings him too close to Nero and he makes a slash through Bones’ abdomen. It’s shallow enough but Bones can hear the tear of his shirt and can feel the swell of warm blood to the surface of his skin, spilling over and seeping through the light material. “Woops.” Nero says, taking another more calculated swipe at Bones, this time it’s with his free hand and it’s so he can grab and sit him back in the chair. Bones is defenceless now, all electronics abandoned. Nero holds Bones in place with an elbow dug in his shoulder and a hand holding his head in place. Nero carves an upside down cross into Bones’ right cheek, blood pouring out with ease.

When he’s finished Nero stands back and admires his work, smearing some of the blood around Bones’ cheek with his thumb, eliciting a hiss from Bones but the younger man is too weak to react. He does take some pleasure at seeing the blood seeping out of the side of Nero’s head and the bruise blooming across his temple.

“I’d call an ambulance for you mate but I really am a very busy man.” Nero grins, striding out of the room without a second glance. Bones isn’t sure he’ll make it if he has to wait for an ambulance; there is too much blood streaming from the wound across his belly. He haphazardly moves around the kitchen, pulling cupboards open to look for a first aid kit. He feels utterly stupid, who keeps a suture kit with their first aid stuff? _Fuck_ Bones thinks. He pushes against the slash to try and stem the flow, bringing his other hand up to do the same with his cheek. When he finally reaches for the phone hooked up to the wall his hands are slippery from all the blood coating them.

 The phone rings twice before someone picks it up.

“Hello?”

“Jim.” Bones murmurs, thankful to hear his voice. “It’s Bones. Nero was here, Chris and Carol are fine, I sent them to the Whit, but I’ve- I love you, Jim. I’ll call you back.” And he hangs up, returning to his senses he rings an ambulance.

...

Apparently he’s lucky that no major organs were touched, the slice across his stomach was deeper than he initially thought and they work on that before they start on his cheek, for over an hour the only treatment the crude symbol receives is a gauze and bandage. It hurts like fuck when it is finally sewn up and he can’t help looking in one of the proffered mirrors even though he knows what will stare back at him won’t be pretty. It’s not as thick as it felt, it split the skin of his cheek but Stanley blades are thinner than most knives and so hopefully the scar won’t be too grotesque once it’s healed. For now though it looks disgusting.

Even though Bones didn’t ask the hospital to contact anyone about an hour and a half after arriving the entire group, including Christine and Carol, turn up on his ward. Jim kicks up a fuss when the nurses inform Jim that so many people cannot be on the ward and that it would be best if they waited in the relative’s room because Mr McCoy will be discharged in a few minutes.

“Fuck that, I need to see him!” He roars.

“Jim.” Bones says gently, he _has_ been discharged and he’s ready to get the hell out of A &E.

“Bones.” Jim sighs and rushes forward. The blonde eyes the stiches in his lover’s face and visibly seethes. “I’ll kill him.” Jim promises. “I will fucking _kill_ him.”

“Jim you can’t, you’re not going to jail over that asshole.” Bones says. “I just want to go home.”

“I should never have let you go around there. God, I _made_ you go around there.”  Jim says. “I’ll make it right.”

“Please, Jim.” Bones says. “Let’s just go.”

…

Winona has to dull the squawk that threatens to rumble from her throat when she first sees Bones. Bones just subconsciously pulls his hand up to cover the right side of his face then quickly snatches it away when he thinks about potential infection.

“Oh, Leonard.” Nyota says, she has a bag full of fresh clothes in her hand, evidence of her time spent in the laundrette. She was kicked out of the Kirk residence today as well but Nero was too busy cutting up Bones to have paid her a visit.

“It’ll get smaller as it heals.” Bones says defensively, Spock and Jim come into the sitting room to announce that they are going out to get some food shopping in.

“Can’t we do it in the morning?” Winona says, eyeing the door warily, it’s dark and it’s half ten and Winona Kirk is no fool.

“No mum.” Jim shakes his head. “Don’t wait up.”

“Jim, please don’t do anything stupid.” Bones says.

“Bones this isn’t just going to stop. I can’t come home to find you or mum bled dry on the kitchen floor.” Jim huffs. “He needs to be told.”

“So what, you go out and get yourself killed?” Bones demands, frowning so hard he pulls at his stitches.

“Such little faith.” Jim murmurs. “I used to be a very manly skinhead at one time, before you came along.”

“I’m sure you did, but now I _have_ come along and I don’t want you rushing in and getting your fool head broken. Can’t we figure something else out?” Bones says.

“No Bones, it’s not going to stop unless I finish it.” Jim shrugs. “Just say here and mind the girls.”

“Stay here and be minded _by_ the girls you mean.” Bones huffs and Jim just grins at him before pecking his unwounded cheek and gesturing for Spock to head out through the back door.

“Just… be safe.” Jim says, following in Spock’s wake.

…

Before they enter the pub it’s too dark to see a fucking thing and the muggy June weather is only helping to further aggravate Jim, but nonetheless they step into the Nag’s Head knowing Nero will be sitting in there; Jim has no qualms with starting pub brawls, that’s how he’s earned his stripes. He has no problem bringing the fight to Nero now that Nero’s made a play for his family because when nothing else matters to Jim Kirk, and usually not much does, his family always will. 

“How’s your pretty boy now, Jimmy?” Nero offers a twisted grin. “He was bleeding pretty heavy when I left him.”

“Looks like he did some damage of his own.” He motions to Nero’s black eye and the bruise that runs along his temple, he’s got a few stitches in his hair line too and Jim’s heart swells to see it.

“Funny how he lets you fight his battles for him, must be a yank thing.” Nero counters. “Or maybe it’s a queer thing.” The other patrons of the bar have gone quiet now, watching the two men war with words and just mutely supping on their pints hoping for some bloodshed. Nero is infamous, but so is Jim, Nero just hasn’t been around to hear about it.

“I told you if you wanted to fight to fight me. I want it over.” Jim says.

“Jimmy, you’re a child. You’d be dead before we even started.” Nero chuckles.

“I think you’d be surprised.” Jim says.

“You cannot do this here in the open, Jim.” Spock warns Jim in a low voice. “There are too many witnesses.”

“Why don’t we take this outside?” Jim suggests, inclining his head politely in the direction of the terrified looking barman who nods appreciatively. Nero nods and picks up his bottle on the way out, following Jim and Spock to the side entrance of the pub. It leads out onto a little alley way and Ayel is suddenly out there beside Nero. Nero smacks the bottle against the wall and swipes the broken edges in Jim’s direction, but Jim doesn’t want to use his knife, he wants to feel Nero’s bones crunch underneath the weight of his fist and so he moves in accordance, dodging the older man’s arm and delivering a few punches in quick succession, Ayel moves to start on Jim from behind but Spock quickly draws his blade against the man’s neck.

“The likelihood of your success is less than one percent.” He states, drawing the blade in closer and making Ayel careen his neck back away from the knife’s edge.

The already broken glass is shattered over Jim’s skull after Nero gets too frustrated at Jim’s ability to evade his swipes, Jim’s bleeding but he hasn’t lost the will to batter the ever-loving fuck out of Nero and so now the two just scrap, it’s dirty and it’s brutal. But there are police sirens and Jim thinks the bartender must be a complete idiot to have called the old bill to his own pub especially when he serves the likes of Nero. Spock swipes his blade along Ayel’s cheek and shoves him over to Nero, allowing him and Jim enough time to jump the fence and dart back down the main road.

“We need to get home. The old bill will head in there, see nothing’s amiss and then Nero will head to the house. I need to be there before him.” Jim states.

…

“Oh Jesus.” Bones says on first opening the door and taking in Jim’s bruised and bleeding face, his ripped shirt and the bruises on the skin of his abdomen.

“No, just me.” Jim says with a bloody grin, leaning more of his weight on Spock before shrugging away from the other man and stepping into the house.

“In the kitchen.” Bones huffs. “I’ve just vacuumed.”

“We call it hoovering here.” Jim points out.

“I don’t much care.” Bones huffs. “Spock would you keep Winona in the living room until I’ve sorted Jim out please.”

“That is a logical course of action.” Spock nods, continuing down the hall to where Nyota and Winona are currently watching the news.

“I told you you’d get yourself broken.” Bones huffs. “And I’m not best fucking impressed, darlin’.”

“Don’t be angry at me I’m bleeding.” Jim reasons.

“Right now I’m just happy you’re not dead.” Bones states. “Sit up on the counter, I’ll clean you up.”

Jim hops up on the kitchen worktop and watches Bones pull his first aid kit out from where he keeps it at hand in the bottom kitchen draw. Bones pulls out antiseptic wipes and gently dabs at the worst affected areas of Jim’s head, fingers softly tracing the bruises that mar his cheeks. “You talk about not wanting to walk in and find me gutted on the kitchen floor but do you think I want to see you in a body bag?” Bones says quietly. “When you left tonight you didn’t think about what was best for us. Do you think your mother wants to lose another son?”

“It’s my job to-”

“No Jim. It’s your job to be _here_ for us. You talk about protecting your family but we have just as much right to protect _you_.” Bones exhales a shaky breath and begins cleaning Jim’s knuckles.

“He won’t stop.” Jim counters.

“Then call the police.”

“I’m not a grass.”

“Then I’ll call them.” Bones shrugs. “S’not like I don’t have the evidence still.”

“It’s healed pretty well.” Jim says, reaching his hand up to cup the offending cheek and Bones put’s the antiseptic wipes down, covering Jim’s hand with his own. “You can’t go to the old bill.” Jim adds.

“You’re not the boss of me, Jim, the other’s might hang on your every word but I won’t let you get killed or kill another man for me. You’re not Nero. You’re James Kirk and you’re a good kid.” Bones says.

“Man.” Jim counters.

“Man-child.” Bones nods with a small smile.

“He’ll come here tonight. We got interrupted at the pub. Spock and I had to scarper.” Jim explains.

“Can’t you guys just talk it out? Negotiate?” Bones suggests. Then there’s a knock and Bones sighs but he keeps his hands firm on Jim’s thighs silently pleading for him to stay put. Jim just smiles and presses his lips to Bones’ but the knocking soon turns to thumping and Spock is making unamused sounds from the hallway.

“Making him wait will only incite his anger further.” Spock says and Jim slips out of Bones’ grasp to open the door.

“Nero.” Jim says.

“I don’t want to hurt you Jimmy.” Nero says. “Not with your mother in the house, seems disrespectful.”

“Being disrespectful usually doesn’t bother you.” Jim counters with a shrug.

“It could all go back to normal you know, if you just apologised and tidied up your act a bit.” Nero reasons.

“Send Bones packing you mean.” Jim says.

“You can’t be that attached to him.” Nero counters.

“You hurt what’s mine and brought shit to my door, I wouldn’t apologise to you for all the tea in China.” Jim spits. “I’d happily do time if it got you away from my family.”

“You couldn’t kill me kid.” Nero jeers.

“Your death would not be worth the consequences.” Spock says over Jim’s shoulder.

“Ah, Spock.” Nero smiles. “How’s your bird?”

“I am not currently in possession of any Aves.” Spock counters.

“You always were a snarky cunt.” Nero snarls.

“Are you just here to call him names?” Jim yawns. “’Cause I have better things to do.”

“Like fucking your fella?” Nero spits.

“You sound almost jealous Nero.” Jim scoffs. “If we fight one of us will end up dead and the other one will end up inside. Either way it doesn’t seem like much of a victory. Why don’t you just leave it now? You don’t need my loyalty; you have enough people swarming around you.”

“I can’t let you call yourself a skinhead when you’re with that yank.” Nero says. “You and yours have got above your station. I run this town.”

“Used to. You used to run this town. But it’s not the way you remember it. This isn’t ‘69 Nero and you need to get over yourself. No one runs this town, it’s _London_ you wanker. And we’re just skinheads. Who I’m shagging doesn’t make a fucking difference. You went inside because _you_ murdered a man, so you can drop all this shit with Spock as well.” Jim huffs. “Now get the fuck off my doorstep because like you so rightly pointed out, I’ve got a fella to fuck.” Jim adds, swinging the door closed. He exhales and nods to himself.

“I don’t believe he has left yet, Jim.” Spock points out.

“If he tries to kick the door in I’ll let you phone the police.” Jim says. “But Raiders of the Lost Ark is on tonight and so I’m gonna get into my pyjama bottoms and relax for myself.”

“I think I will retire to the bedroom then, Nyota expressed a wish to get an early night because she would like to look for joint premises together in the morning.” Spock says.

“You never said.”

“I thought it may be an act in counter to your plans for the four of us to remain here. She wishes to search in East London which I believe is far enough that Nero will not attempt to find us.” Spock says.

“That is a bit of a trek.” Jim nods. “Bit of a shithole too, but the house prices are cheaper I suppose.”

“Nyota wishes to look at properties in Bow actually.” Spock’s eyebrows tell that he isn’t all that fond of the idea, of course Uhura would pick the only posh part of East London.

 “Good luck with that.” Jim says, although he knows Spock can afford it because he works in the bank and has always had a good salary as well as yearly bonuses.

“Good night Jim.” And Jim nods, Nero is no longer outside the front door and so Jim heads back to the kitchen.

“You’re not dead then.” Is all Bones says, frowning into the biscuit jar.

“All the bourbons gone?” Jim guesses.

“Yes, can’t imagine who’s eaten them all.” Bones huffs.

“If you keep making me drink coffee of course I’ll keep eating them. They’re the only thing that makes that shit bearable.” Jim shrugs, moving to hug Bones from behind, resting his chin on Bones’ shoulder. “That Indiana Jones film is on in about twenty minutes.”

“I already saw you’ve circled it in the TV guide.” Bones counters with a little smile.

“I’m going to get changed.” Jim says as Winona enters the kitchen.

“He eat all your biscuits?” Winona wonders.

“He’s unstoppable.” Bones nods, setting the caddy down. They’re still in the awkward phase of their relationship because Bones blames himself for getting Jim into all this trouble and Winona is still wary of this twenty four year old man sleeping with her child.

“I guess it’s good to have a doctor around.” Winona gestures to all the first aid ware still on the kitchen counter.

“I never finished medschool.” Bones shakes his head, clearing the antiseptic wrappers into the bin.

“Could you not finish it over here?” Winona asks.

“I don’t think I could do medschool and try to hold down a job.” Bones says.

“Well it’s a choice you have to make I suppose. Would be nice to say my son is with a doctor, though.” She shrugs, an encouraging glint in her eye.

“Yes, ma’am.” Bones says gently. “I suppose it would.”

“The storm might’nt be over yet, Leo.” She starts. “But I’m glad Jim will face it with you beside him.”

…

It’s April 1992, it’s a Tuesday and it’s fucking raining, _typical._ Jim’s happy enough though, he’s huddled under the duvet and it’s nice soft cotton and he's warm from the body lying beside him. Bones isn’t wearing a scrap of clothing and so it’s just a lot of tanned skin touching Jim in various places; the strong weight of an arm over his waist and his cheek pushed against Jim’s ribs, lips softly brushing a pectoral muscle. It’s one of those perfect mornings. One where neither of them have to move out of bed if they don’t want, Bones isn’t even on call this week and so they can really just relax without any interruptions. Jim sighs, watching the rain pelt against their bedroom window, then Bones shuffles slightly and his eyes begin to flutter open.

“’orning.” He murmurs.

“Morning.” Jim returns, placing a kiss over Bones’ temple.

“Tea?” Bones wonders.

“You’re a lazy sod. Get your own tea.” Jim says but edges out of the bed anyway. If he could take back hooking Bones on tea he would because it would save him a lot of heart ache and he'd get to stay in bed. He pads around the bedroom, sighing dramatically, and slips on an old white t-shirt, one of Bones’ probably because it’s a bit too big around the shoulders but it’s got _Trojan_ printed over it and so must have been something he bought the doctor, and some boxers before heading out into the open planned area of their loft-type apartment. They’ve been living here for about six years now, around the time Bones finally finished his F2 year and became a fully-fledged doctor. The deposit for the up-market, Camden Town, flat was more than Bones’ first bonus and Jim’s monthly wage packet put together but they blagged it somehow and have never looked back. Not that they need to now with Jim owning _Enterprise Cars_  since Pike retired three years ago and Bones working as a consultant on the neurology ward.

Jim flicks the kettle on, grabs two cups from the cupboard and puts a teabag into each cup. Then he goes to the front door and picks the newspaper and bottle of milk up from the side of the doormat. Checking the sports pages first before flicking back to the front page.

_Eric Romulus, more widely known by his alias Nero, died last night while imprisoned at HM Prison Pentonville. Nero was convicted of GBH, attempted rape, and carrying an offensive weapon almost ten years ago. Due to previous convictions, including the intent to supply a class A substance and manslaughter he was sentenced to serve ten years in prison and would have been due for release next August. However, after a fight with a fellow inmate, Nero was fatally injured and died in the Whittington Hospital in the early hours of this morning. Although the nature of the injury has been kept from the public and prison guards and fellow inmates have made no further comment._

Jim sets down the paper and takes a breath. Nero seemed to vanish after that night in the Nag’s Head, Jim had actually breathed a sigh of relief until about a month later when the police had rung Spock to inform him that a Miss Nyota Uhura was currently in hospital after an attempted sexual assault but that the attacker in question had been apprehended and was currently in a holding cell in Kentish Town Police Station. Nyota had had no problem giving her statement during the trial and there had been two other witnesses to confirm her story as well as a medical report detailing some of the physical abuse she had been subjected to. Jim was glad Nero hadn’t got any further than roughing Nyota up a bit, and not just for her sake, he could imagine the calm veneer of his best friend fading pretty quickly if Nyota had been raped and it would have probably been them facing a murder trial.

But now Nero was dead.

Jim turns away from the kitchen counter and resumes making tea, pouring the water into the cups and stirring in some sugar. Jim throws the newspaper into the bin and adds milk to the teas, putting it away into the fridge before straining the tea bags and chucking them away as well.

He doesn’t really know what to say to Bones when he gets back into bed. He traces his finger over the thin white scar; the upturned cross, that still marks his cheek. Both Jim and Bones know it’s the one thing Jim will always be eternally sorry for, the one wrong he carries close to his heart no matter how many times Bones tells him _it wasn’t your fucking fault_.

“Nero died this morning, it was in the paper.” Jim whispers.

“You know it’s been exactly ten years since we first met?” Bones says. “Since I walked into that café on Junction Road.”

“Exactly?” Jim asks, raising his eyebrows with a chuffed little smile, to which Bones only nods.

“And I don’t regret one damn day of it, Jim.” Bones says, kissing the side of Jim’s mouth. “Not one.” 


End file.
